The perils of living alone.

So I’ve been splitting my time between Sheffield and Loughborough all summer because I got a job in Loughborough and essentially live alone from Monday to Friday. Although I spent a grand total of a week and a half living alone when I worked the graduation ceremonies AND my usual job as well which was interesting. Living alone hasn’t been too bad, but over the past month I have realised a few things that only happen when you are the sole inhabitant of a house. Such as:

1) You become more aware of your own mortality

How I almost exited the house.

How I almost exited the house.

So I’m now pretty comfortable in my uni house, but the first couple of weeks of living alone were a little bit scary, and even now I have to sleep with the radio on just so I’m not scaling the drane pipe everytime I hear a noise. Living alone really makes you think about your own mortality; I’ve wondered what would happen if I happen to choke on something and there is nobody there to give me the hemlich manouvere and how long it would be before people started wondering where I was.

However, the first time I REALLY started thinking about my own mortality was one night when I was in bed and I saw a light come on from under my closed bedroom door. Now, I was the only person in the house and I’d turned all the lights off, so you can understand why my heart stopped; if I’d have heard a noise on the landing then I would have been out my window and shimmying down the drain pipe quicker than a pack of girls chasing One Direction’s tour bus. Fortunately, I soon realised that I wasn’t about to have clamber out of my window and run down the street screaming because it was only my neighbour’s landing light coming, which happens to overlook our landing.

2) You become OCD.

Me wondering if I'd left the cooker on.

Me wondering if I’d left the cooker on.

Living alone in a house means you are in charge of EVERYTHING, which is a little scary. I’m pretty good at checking the lights and hobs before I leave the house, partly because I check everything about twenty times before I leave. I even unplug my radio when I go to work so I won’t return home to a burning house due to an electrical fault. However, even though I’m borderline OCD about checking things before I leave the house, when I’m at home on weekends I do occasionally wake up in the night and think ”OMG I THINK I LEFT THE COOKER ON” before realising that after spending five minutes checking the cooker before I left the house that the chances of me doing that are minimal.

3) The radio becomes your best friend.

Me in the bath listening to the radio.

Me in the bath listening to the radio.

Last year my Dad bought me a digital radio after I admitted that due to Loughborough being a complete bubble I have no idea what is going on in the outside world. It may have took some time, but I’m finally appreciating the joys of having a radio. I listen to it at night when I’m trying to fall asleep, I listen to it when I’m in the bath or when I’m packing my stuff. As sad as it sounds, hearing people having an actual conversation is a bit of a life saver when you’re in a house by yourself. Radio 1 is now my new best friend, and it’s getting to the point where I actually know what games are played on which show and at what day and time. Help me.

4) If you’re ill, you’re screwed.

How I felt after four paracetamol.

How I felt after four paracetamol.

So on Monday morning I went back to Loughborough and I woke up feeling fresh as a daisy, and by twelve o clock I’d be smacked in the face with illness. I’m not ill very often, and even then it’s never that bad but I actually lay on my bed in tears because I felt that dreadful. I had the dilemma of not wanting to phone into work sick but at the same time I had no medicine in the house.

The result was me wobbling to Tesco and trying to make it to the medicine aisle whilst fighting the urge to open up one of the freezers and curl in a ball next to the frozen veg and cry.

Fortunately, I made it to and from Tescos safely and managed to combat my illness quite effectively by taking three paracetamol. Unfortunately, another peril of living alone is not having someone to advise you on how much paracetamol is the right amount, because I took another paracetamol a couple of hours later just in case I felt terrible again which was a big mistake.

Let me tell you something people, FOLLOW THE ADVICE ON PACKETS. Four paracetamol in three hours is a big no no if you don’t want to feel like you’ve been shot into space and are orbiting the earth. I have never walked into work with that big a smile on my face before, calling those paracetamol ”extra strength” was an understatement because I could have been hit by a truck and probably wouldn’t have noticed. Seriously, read the instructions kids.


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